


The England Captain's Club

by freddi11



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Platonic Ship, M/M, and lots of other old photos and videos, i just wondered if this or something like it happened last night, i love those two and their friendship, i needed this as background for my cookerson saga as well, in celebration of one of my platonic otps, inspired by happy! joe talking to aggers on wednesday, just a platonic love scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddi11/pseuds/freddi11
Summary: Ali and Joe meet on the beach in Antigua. And have a good chat.(Set during the current series)





	The England Captain's Club

He doesn’t know if it’s instinct. Or a desire to get away from everyone and everything. To be alone. Or just a blatantly stupid idea.

Probably a mixture of all three.

Either way, Joe doesn’t hesitate when the idea pops into his head after dinner (he had finished the grilled salmon, mostly to stop the others from looking worried, but in fact he had not enjoyed it at all). He shrugs Jos’ slightly surprised question – “you sure you don’t want to play FIFA tonight?” – off with a smile, hurries upstairs to grab a light jacket from his room (it does get chilly after sunset out here in Antigua), puts his sandals on and is back downstairs and out of the door before the other lads can see him or ask anything.

The hotel beach is – thankfully – completely empty. Joe crouches down, scoops a handful of soft, glittering white sand up with his hands. Enjoys the feeling as the grains trickle past his fingers.  It really is a special place, the Caribbean.

A few flashing lights – green and white, fading against the night now slowly setting over the island – cross the bay on the horizon. Fishermen, in their boats, alone on the vast black ocean. _I wonder what that feels like. To be out there on your own, miles away from everyone and everything. Do you feel free? I think I would._

Joe casts a glance around the little bay with its now deserted colourful huts, food stands and sunbeds, the umbrellas neatly folded away, awaiting another sun-drenched day. His spirits lift a bit as he spots a familiar sight to his left. It’s still there.

Looking back over his shoulder to see if anyone is following him, Joe crosses the sand to the red canopy swing, pulls off his sandals, lets himself flop down on the comfortable pillows with a soft sigh.

It’s nearly four years since he last sat here, during an equally balmy Caribbean night, the dark blue (night blue? Is that a word? It should be if it isn’t) sky stretching above them like a blanket, glittering stars telling stories of distant worlds.

Three hours – maybe more, he lost track of it – of a really good chat. And comfortable – comforting – mutual silences. During which he discovered an entirely new side to someone he thought he knew.

It was the day that started it all. That set them on the path to the Ashes victory later in the same year, the most unlikely – and therefore even more brilliant – success they’d enjoyed together. And the day their friendship really began in earnest. The day they realised how much they could rely on each other, how well they could support each other not only in a batting partnership but also through all the small and bigger obstacles their sport threw at them.

_I wish someone was there for me right now. The way I was for you back then. I miss you, Ali._

Joe sighs again, rubs his hands over his eyes. It’s absolutely ridiculous to hope Ali is going to come tonight. He’s got a new job, new contacts to make, stuff to learn and relationships to build. It’s good to have him here, but whatever they had – Joe runs a finger over the armband on his right wrist – it’s not over, but it changed. And part of it ended back at the Oval in September.

_I understand you now, Ali. It is a lonely job._

Of course, he could talk to Jos (Jos always listens, even in the middle of the night) but it wouldn’t be the same. Jos understands him without words, but he wouldn’t understand this. The pressure. The anxiety. The huge, something crippling sense of responsibility that comes with being captain. The reason Joe hasn’t slept well since their defeat in Barbados last week.

It’s something Joe needs to deal with by himself. He knows that, and yet…

To his immense annoyance, he feels tears stinging at the back of his eyes. He knew, back in Kandy when Jimmy had his breakdown (which Joe will always keep secret), that it was only a matter of time before it would hit him himself. That Ali’s really gone, that he’s moved on, that they’ll have to adapt to series without him.

And now, it seems, it has. In the middle of the second test. _Just fucking perfect._

Joe looks back over his shoulder again – still nobody to see – and gives up the fight. Hugs his knees close to his chest, lets the tears flow. Relief, sadness and immense exhaustion. A terrible mixture.

He’s so far away that at first, he doesn’t notice someone has sat down next to him.

Until a hand – a familiar hand – is laid on his shoulder, squeezes it gently.

“Shh.” A very familiar, kind voice says softly.

Joe looks up, startled. And can’t believe his eyes.

“Cook... Ali? What are you…? I mean how did you know I was…?” He falters, looks at his feet. Feels himself flush.

“Let’s just say,” Ali puts an arm around Joe’s shoulders, “I remembered.”

Joe is momentarily lost for words. Hesitates for a bit but decides to follow his instinct and rests his head on Ali’s shoulder.  Closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and says: “Thanks.” Knows his voice is still rather shaky, doesn’t trust himself to speak in complete sentences. Yet.

“Needed to get away from it all?” Ali says sympathetically.

A nod.

“I thought so when I saw you in the afternoon. I… well, you know I’ve been there. Several times.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” “You didn’t do anything wrong. That ball was unplayable. I wouldn’t have been able to defend it.” “Thanks.”

“I’m not being nice, I’m telling the truth. And I know you’re not really able to hear it right now. So… why don’t you tell me what’s going on? And I’ll see if I can help.” Ali looks down at Joe. With that smile. Their smile. Their shorthand for “don’t worry, I’m here, you don’t have to go through everything on your own”.

Joe smiles back. That was exactly what he said to Ali on this swing, four years ago.

It doesn’t take long before they’re deep in one of their usual discussions.

And Joe relaxes from minute to minute, lets go of everything that’s been eating at him since last Thursday. Ali listens, doesn’t ask many questions, lets Joe work things out on his own, occasionally confirms that he would have done the same or throws in a hint or a half-formed idea.

“So?” Ali says after what feels like an eternity, winks at him.

Joe takes another deep breath. Feels a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me. I promised, didn’t I?”

They share a look.

 “Shall we go back?” Ali asks.

Joe shakes his head. “Not right now. It… it’s nice out here.”

Ali grins, remembers his own, very similar answer from last time.

So they keep sitting there for a while, look out at the now pitch dark sea and the faint lights on the horizon. Ali’s left hand covers Joe’s right, stretched out on the cushions.

It’s a lonely job, being captain. Most of the time.

But if you remember there’s someone who understands you, it’s not as hard as you might think.


End file.
